saying goodbye
It has been a sad week in our family. My grandma passed away last Thursday morning and we've spent some time in Decatur for her funeral.
I will miss my Grandma Wingard more than I can say in a short blog post. She was special. She was stern and spoke her mind, yet was still kind and nurturing. We grandkids knew to behave at Grandma's house, but it was still one of my favorite places to be. As my sister said in her eulogy at the service, time just slowed a bit at my grandma's house. We could spend an entire hour looking at fabric together in her sewing room or talking on the porch swing on the sun porch or listening to stories about relatives. She was so proud of her big family; her home was absolutely covered with photographs of her family.
My Grandma had a bit of a sassy side. Ben likes to tell the story of his first Wingard Christmas almost twenty years ago when he had one of his first encounters with Mum. For the story to make sense, you have to know that Mum hated to be fussed about or to be the center of attention. We grandkids learned that she only tolerated being given a gift, for example, if it was not extravagant and was given in a very casual way. She would accept a framed photograph or something handmade, but if you tried to give her a bigger gift, she became a little agitated.
That first Christmas that Ben spent with my family, my parents bought Mum a jogging suit. She was already cranky because she had been given many gifts, so she really became annoyed with the present from my parents. Ben says she opened the box, looked at the jogging suit, and said in disgust, "Well that ain't gonna fit me! Why did you get me that?!?" He wasn't quite sure how to take this grandma of mine. He quickly learned that beneath the occasionally gruff exterior was nothing but love.
Because my Grandma was so no nonsense, it would be easy for someone who did not know her well to think of her as cranky. She could be at times, for sure, but I can say with honesty that when I think about my grandma, all I can think about is love. Her long hugs. The gentle way she held my babies. The way she would pull my hair into a ponytail as she was talking to me or stroke my arm. Her delicious, home cooked simple meals she shared with her family. The way she would walk me to the door each time I visited and then wave at me the entire time I pulled out of the driveway. The way she wrote long letters to Gracie when she was just two and three and four years old. The birthday cards she mailed to us for our birthdays with two dollars inside each time. The smell of her lotion. The way she would kind of breathe in deep when she was hugging me, like she was taking on my scent.
I will miss my grandma. The reality that she is no longer around is tough to accept. When the funeral procession drove past her home, it hit me so hard that I felt like I was punched in the stomach. That home holds so many of my childhood memories. As I told my brother how sad I thought the "for sale" sign was, he replied in his usual optimistic way, "It doesn't have to be. Now it can be a nice house for another family." That thought helped a bit.
I've thought back this week to the last time I saw my Grandma. Last April, my mom, Gracie, and I went to visit her together in her nursing home. I thought about taking all of the kids, but my mom suggested that the visit might go better if it was a smaller visit. My grandma tended to get overwhelmed in those last months.
That day was a good one. She was having a clear day and knew who I was and who Gracie was. We visited for about an hour. She had a hard time getting some words out and I could see that it was frustrating her, but she seemed happy that we were there. At one point, she and my mom and Gracie were studying the different fabrics on the quilt on Mum's bed. My mom was telling Gracie stories about the different fabrics. I wanted to freeze time at that moment. Some part of me knew that even if that wasn't my last good visit, it was one of the last. I remember as I stood there, I had to fight a lump in my throat. I felt like I should pull out my phone and take a picture.
Not long after, a nurse came in to check her vitals and give her some medicine and then it was time for her to go to lunch. We let her know we were going to leave and she wanted to stand up to say goodbye to me. It was hard work for her to get to a standing position and once she did, she leaned in for a long, long hug. She gathered my hair into a ponytail as she often did and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She said, "You come back and visit me again. Don't wait so long next time." It was hard not to cry as I left and if Gracie had not been with me, I am certain I would have broken down in tears.
I didn't see my Grandma again after that visit. She had some rough months. I knew that I should go for a visit, but was fearful. My cousin Jeff told me he went for a visit and she didn't know who he was. My dad said the same. My aunt would tell me stories about my Grandma's confusion. I was a chicken. The thought of going to see her and her not knowing who I was or being annoyed by my visit kept me away. Every time I asked my mom about her, things were not going well. Even so, it hurt me to receive the call last Thursday that she was gone. No matter how long a life a person lives or how sick they are, it is still so very hard to say goodbye.
Funerals are such a funny mixture of sadness and fun time together with family, aren't they? It was hard to say goodbye, but it was made easier because I was surrounded by family. It's not often that the whole Wingard clan is together, so I appreciated every moment of it. A few pictures from our time in Decatur----
I will miss my Grandma Wingard more than I can say in a short blog post. She was special. She was stern and spoke her mind, yet was still kind and nurturing. We grandkids knew to behave at Grandma's house, but it was still one of my favorite places to be. As my sister said in her eulogy at the service, time just slowed a bit at my grandma's house. We could spend an entire hour looking at fabric together in her sewing room or talking on the porch swing on the sun porch or listening to stories about relatives. She was so proud of her big family; her home was absolutely covered with photographs of her family.
My Grandma had a bit of a sassy side. Ben likes to tell the story of his first Wingard Christmas almost twenty years ago when he had one of his first encounters with Mum. For the story to make sense, you have to know that Mum hated to be fussed about or to be the center of attention. We grandkids learned that she only tolerated being given a gift, for example, if it was not extravagant and was given in a very casual way. She would accept a framed photograph or something handmade, but if you tried to give her a bigger gift, she became a little agitated.
That first Christmas that Ben spent with my family, my parents bought Mum a jogging suit. She was already cranky because she had been given many gifts, so she really became annoyed with the present from my parents. Ben says she opened the box, looked at the jogging suit, and said in disgust, "Well that ain't gonna fit me! Why did you get me that?!?" He wasn't quite sure how to take this grandma of mine. He quickly learned that beneath the occasionally gruff exterior was nothing but love.
Because my Grandma was so no nonsense, it would be easy for someone who did not know her well to think of her as cranky. She could be at times, for sure, but I can say with honesty that when I think about my grandma, all I can think about is love. Her long hugs. The gentle way she held my babies. The way she would pull my hair into a ponytail as she was talking to me or stroke my arm. Her delicious, home cooked simple meals she shared with her family. The way she would walk me to the door each time I visited and then wave at me the entire time I pulled out of the driveway. The way she wrote long letters to Gracie when she was just two and three and four years old. The birthday cards she mailed to us for our birthdays with two dollars inside each time. The smell of her lotion. The way she would kind of breathe in deep when she was hugging me, like she was taking on my scent.
I will miss my grandma. The reality that she is no longer around is tough to accept. When the funeral procession drove past her home, it hit me so hard that I felt like I was punched in the stomach. That home holds so many of my childhood memories. As I told my brother how sad I thought the "for sale" sign was, he replied in his usual optimistic way, "It doesn't have to be. Now it can be a nice house for another family." That thought helped a bit.
I've thought back this week to the last time I saw my Grandma. Last April, my mom, Gracie, and I went to visit her together in her nursing home. I thought about taking all of the kids, but my mom suggested that the visit might go better if it was a smaller visit. My grandma tended to get overwhelmed in those last months.
That day was a good one. She was having a clear day and knew who I was and who Gracie was. We visited for about an hour. She had a hard time getting some words out and I could see that it was frustrating her, but she seemed happy that we were there. At one point, she and my mom and Gracie were studying the different fabrics on the quilt on Mum's bed. My mom was telling Gracie stories about the different fabrics. I wanted to freeze time at that moment. Some part of me knew that even if that wasn't my last good visit, it was one of the last. I remember as I stood there, I had to fight a lump in my throat. I felt like I should pull out my phone and take a picture.
Not long after, a nurse came in to check her vitals and give her some medicine and then it was time for her to go to lunch. We let her know we were going to leave and she wanted to stand up to say goodbye to me. It was hard work for her to get to a standing position and once she did, she leaned in for a long, long hug. She gathered my hair into a ponytail as she often did and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She said, "You come back and visit me again. Don't wait so long next time." It was hard not to cry as I left and if Gracie had not been with me, I am certain I would have broken down in tears.
I didn't see my Grandma again after that visit. She had some rough months. I knew that I should go for a visit, but was fearful. My cousin Jeff told me he went for a visit and she didn't know who he was. My dad said the same. My aunt would tell me stories about my Grandma's confusion. I was a chicken. The thought of going to see her and her not knowing who I was or being annoyed by my visit kept me away. Every time I asked my mom about her, things were not going well. Even so, it hurt me to receive the call last Thursday that she was gone. No matter how long a life a person lives or how sick they are, it is still so very hard to say goodbye.
Funerals are such a funny mixture of sadness and fun time together with family, aren't they? It was hard to say goodbye, but it was made easier because I was surrounded by family. It's not often that the whole Wingard clan is together, so I appreciated every moment of it. A few pictures from our time in Decatur----
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